


Spatola

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Baking, Crack, Established Relationship, Feel-good, Fluff, Humor, Leonard Snart is Here and Queer and Tired af, M/M, Spatula - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 12:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11417634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: The Flash is locked in fierce combat with one of his enemies. At four in the morning.Leonard Snart has been awake for over 48 hours.





	Spatola

**Author's Note:**

  * For [languageismymistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/languageismymistress/gifts).



> Scarlet wanted some flashweather fluff with child Clyde and we have a little joke about Mardon that I accidentally started in a cannibal rogues fic in the days of yore

Len's big brilliant brain is fried. All it can do is buzz about how much it wants to drool on Mick's scars and groan at thoughts of schematics and clocks.

He drags his feet down the hall, and Clyde bumps right into them.

 _Kid_ , his brain mumbles. Muddled images of a toddler with bouncy curls poke at him. He's so focused on them that he doesn't realize he's picked up  _this_ toddler and meandered into the kitchen where he'd crawled from, because. Hungry. Right?

Clyde gurgles.

Yeah. Hungry. Len's got a  _thing_ with kids.

Damn, he's―watching Barry Allen and Mark Mardon have a sword fight with spatulas.

It's the tail end, though, and in no time Mardon's twisted the spatula from Barry's fingers, sending it flipping into the air. He catches it with his free hand and a triumphant grin.

"I win, Flash," he says.

Len sighs through his nose and shuffles to Clyde's high chair. Clyde whimpers as he's set down, making grabby hands at him. Len's not sure if he replies with words or baby noises.

"Snart?" Mardon says, "What're you doing?"

Len takes out baby food he'd made himself.

"Oh," Barry says, "is he hungry?"

"By all means," Len drawls, "go back to your little love fest, Buttercup."

"Hey!" Barry says, "If anything,  _I'm_ Westley!"

Mardon scoffs. "I literally went off the map and spent nine months  _on a farm_. You've got a castle of a lab." He sets his spatulas next to the oven―what could he be making at this hour?―and holds out his hand. "I'll feed 'im. Thanks."

Len makes a sound. Clyde may or may not make the same one a second later.

He is very tired.

"Don't bother, Wizard."

Len's brain sighs. That's a good voice.

Mick leans against the archway. "You're good with a spatula, but Snart's the best with kids."

"We're good with Clyde," Barry replies petulantly.

"That's 'cause you're kids too. Just let 'im do it. He's worked himself stupid, but he'll fight you."

Yes. Yes he will. Len takes a spoon and swirls it into Clyde's mouth.

"I forgot how adorable Snart is with kids," Barry murmurs to Mardon, who puts an arm around him and a kiss on his temple.

"Better hope he doesn't remember you saying that," Mardon replies.

"Don't worry, Leonard," Mick―who is now next to him?―says, "I'll remind you."

Mm. Good partner.

Halfway through, Len has to put the jar and spoon down because. Wow. Everything's stretching, like the world has been knocked a little off its axis and pulled like melted sugar. Mm, melted sugar. Mick does the  _best_ stuff with melted sugar.

"Alright, Lenny," Mick says, "c'mon."

"Thought you said we shouldn't interrupt him," Mardon teases.

"He interrupted himself. Now feed the kid. If he wakes Snart with his cryin', he ain't gonna be the only one screaming."

Barry gulps.

As he's led around the corner, Len catches a glimpse of Mardon making funny faces at Clyde, spoon magically replaced with another fucking spatula. Barry's turning red trying to smother his laugh in his hand.

Can Clyde even put that in his mouth? He shouldn't be―

There's hot breath at his ear. "Lenny.  _Come on_."

How long's he been awake?  _Ugh,_ no more timing, no, no, no.

"You c'n drool on my scars if you want."

 _Yes_.

* * *

"Wow, Snart's exhausted," Barry says. There's still a blush in his cheeks from laughing earlier.

Mardon scoops their raspberry tarts onto plates. "Yeah, well, 50 hours―"

" _What_?"

"Mhm. Drives Mick up the wall."

Barry snickers. "They really are so married."

"I mean, yeah."

"...wait, what?"

Mardon smirks.

Barry lifts Clyde from his high chair. "Can you believe this, Clyde? Been together two whole years and he didn't tell me my nemeses are  _married_."

"I thought you knew!"

"He thought I  _knew_ ," Barry mumbles.

Clyde clutches his fingers in sympathy. Barry splatters his face with kisses as he carries him to his crib.

When he comes back, Mardon's leaning against the bar by their plates, arms crossed. He's quietly smiling.

"I like seein' you with him," he says.

Barry smiles back, walking into his arms as they open for him. "He's a great kid."

"You're great too."

"I'm a great kid?"

Mardon bumps their noses. "Eat your tart."

They sit at the table. It looks bigger when it's just the two of them sans Rogues, but it's not lonely.

Barry cuts his tart open and says, "Whoa, that's red."

Mardon winks. "Red for Red."

Barry snorts and takes a huge bite. He moans softly.

"Good?" Mardon asks.

Barry takes his hand, looks him in the eye, and solemnly replies, "You are as handsome as you're good with a spatula."

Mardon bursts out laughing.

There's a faint noise down the hall. Barry and Mardon freeze.

"Wha'm?" Snart mumbles.

" _Mardon_ ," Rory snarls.

Barry and Mardon look at each other, wide-eyed.

"I'll package this up and take you to my place," Barry says.

"I love you," Mardon whispers.

 

**Author's Note:**

> No I don't use Mardon's first name because my father's name is Mark. So there's that


End file.
